


Bertie and the Wish Your Heart Makes

by 2bookworm



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, I had to give them a happy ending, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Period-Typical Homophobia, Tears, Weddings, based on fanart, can you tell i'm a little touch starved these days, more a series of vignettes than a plot, they are just a couple of saps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25595062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2bookworm/pseuds/2bookworm
Summary: Bertie takes a nap while on a picnic, and Jeeves gets an idea.
Relationships: Reginald Jeeves/Bertram "Bertie" Wooster
Comments: 14
Kudos: 65





	Bertie and the Wish Your Heart Makes

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this amazing comic by @Ngoziu (https://ohrather.tumblr.com/post/614000643076751360/the-only-person-he-actually-wants-to-marry) and was inspired!

It was a charming summer day, and Jeeves and Bertie were having a picnic. 

Well, it was less a picnic, and more of an espionage mission, like something out of a Rex West detective story. Uncle Tom had gotten it in his head that an invasion was imminent upon the old homestead and had sent Bertie out as a sentinel. On the outskirts of Brinkley Court lay a small patch of woods with a clearing, inside of which grew various weeds, lichens, and scrubs. Uncle Tom was sure that some combination of leaves and oils from this patch would be the cure-all to his frequent bouts of indigestion. However, so did the local flock of sheep. Bertie had been summoned to ensure that those sheep stayed on their distant hillock at least through tonight, when Tom would head out under cover of moonlight to collect his stinging nettles and eye of newt like an old witch in a fairy tale.

A blue plaid blanket was laid out on the clearing’s floor. The remains of some excellent vittles (namely, crumbs of a steak and kidney pie) lined the bottom of a picnic basket, next to some drained vials of lemon squash. Bertie stretched out along the basket, with his head resting upon one of Jeeves’ stately thighs as Jeeves read one of his improving books. He played idly with a pair of binoculars. Everything was oojah-cum-spiff, Bertie thought _. Well, no better time to drop the news on him, I suppose._

“Reg?”

“Yes, darling?”

Bertie took a deep breath. “Aunt Dahlia knows about us.”

***

Aunt Dahlia had noticed a change in the young fathead’s demeanor these last few months, and like the monster all aunts are, she confronted him directly about it the other day, cornering him in the lounge after breakfast. “Why Bertie, you’ve been floating around like Madeline Basset, telling the flowers good morning and making daisy-chains. What’s gotten into you? You’re acting like a lovesick schoolgirl!” A look of shock came across her nephew’s face, and she knew her hunch was correct. “Well, out with it! Who is the unfortunate creature?”

“I’m sorry, aged relation, I just can’t say.”

“You can’t tell your own aunt, who once rescued you when you were small…”

“I really can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t…”

The boy truly looked pained, now. A thought passed through her mind, a niggling suspicion she had had in the past, but had brushed it away for being too inconceivable. She took hold of one of Bertie’s hands in both of hers.

“Bertie, I have known you your whole life. Whoever this person is, no matter how unsuitable they are, they seem to have made a marked improvement in your mood and a shine come to your eyes I haven’t ever seen before. And let me remind you, I have had many friends in the theater, so nothing you say could surprise me too much.”

Bertie’s eyes drifted floorward. “…Jeeves.”

“What? Why are you calling for him now?”

“No, it’s…Jeeves. Jeeves and I are…together.”

A bit of a shock wave did run through Dahlia at that. “Really?”

A determined look came across Bertie’s face. “Yes, and if you think you’re going to put a stop to it, you’re—!

“Bertram, hush and please listen. I can’t say I’m not a little startled by it, but…I am happy for you.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t say I know how you managed that one, but Jeeves is a smart chap. He’s good for you. I’ve always wondered why he stuck around you for this long.”

“Aunt Dahlia!”

“And don’t worry, you have nothing to fear, your secret is safe with me.”

A short silence filled the room, then Bertie moved to grasp her arm lightly.

“Thank you,” he said tenderly. To Dahlia’s eyes, a small tear was forming at the corner of his eye.

“Oh, pish tosh, come here, you blubberer,” she said as she pulled him into a hug. “Tom won’t hear any of this, but you and Jeeves are always welcome here at Brinkley Court.”

“Thank you, really.”

***

Jeeves looked at Bertie.

“Well?”

“It pains me that we must keep this secret. I am empathetic to how it must feel for someone with your open and sympathetic nature. However, recently I have been considering the relative risk of letting a small few of our most trusted acquaintances know about our arrangement.”

“Really, do you think we could?”

“I believe that as long as the number is small and we can be assured of their trust, it would be possible.”

“I’d like that. I was a little worried that I’d messed it all up and that you would be cross with me.”

Jeeves let out a small breath. “I am grateful that Mrs. Travers is understanding of our relationship.”

“She even suggested that I bring you out here with me today, something about how ‘we all remember how that incident with the swan ended up, so I’m sure when it comes to you versus sheep you wouldn’t fare much better.’ The nerve! But I think she was just trying to give us some privacy.”

“I must thank her when we return to the estate.”

There were a few moments of companionable silence, then Bertie let out a yawn.

“Well, I am feeling a bit drowsy at the mo’ after such a topping meal. Do you mind if I…”

“Not at all.”

With that, Bertie returned his head to one pinstriped thigh, placed his hat over his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

  


\---

  


It was about thirty minutes later when Bertie awoke. Yawning, he removed his hat and stared into the blue eyes of his valet.

“Well!” he started.

“Are you rested, my dear?” replied Jeeves, lowering his book.

“Yes, quite! And you know what?”

Jeeves tilted his head in response.

“I had a dream we got hitched,” he said with a small chuckle. Despite his laughter, Jeeves noticed a tear forming in the corner of his eye. Bertie wiped it away thoughtlessly. “Imagine that!”

A small smile grew on Jeeves’ face. Bertie sat up and Jeeves placed one hand upon his cheek. “You can pass the time mulling these things around, can't you? Bertram Jeeves? No, no—Reginald Wooster! That has a bit of ring to it, doesn't it, Jeeves?"

“Well, though in some sense I would prefer not to lose my familiar appellation— “

“Oh, I know you Jeeveses are proud folk. Wouldn’t want to give up the Viking surname, what?”

“—I fear a legal name change would be next to impossible. However,” he paused and grasped Bertie’s hand. “I would be honored to become a Wooster.”

A beaming smile grew across Bertie’s map. “Oh, Reggie!” he said as he threw his arms around his neck. “You don’t know how much it means to me to hear you say that!”

The embrace was returned, followed by a quick peck, then a longer liplock, and it all threatened to get rather saucy when a “baa!” came faintly from the distance.

“Duty calls!” Bertie cried. “Sorry, I’ll have to put this one down as an IOU. Don’t let me forget!”

“I ensure you, you will not,” said Jeeves as he rose and picked up the binoculars.

“To battle, then!”

  


\---

  


It had been two months since the picnic, and Reginald Jeeves was nervous.

Bertie would be coming back from his club in about half an hour, and per their usual routine they would sup together. Bertie would share the latest buzz from his fellow Drones, and Jeeves would talk of the gossip among the shopkeeps and servants of London. They would discuss the latest films, or perhaps Jeeves would indulge in a spot of philosophizing over the roast gammon.

Tonight was different. The table had been set perfectly, with sharp white linens and deftly polished silverware. Every votive candle he could find was lit and scattered around the dining room, and in the middle of the table sat a bud vase containing a single red rose. Reginald himself had changed out of his valeting togs and into his finest outfit, a tuxedo jacket (obtained while going undercover as a man-about-town for a scheme to assist Mr. Rockmateller Todd) and a black silk bow tie. His hair was slicked back with brillantine, and a small velveteen pouch weighed down his left pocket. The roast hen was in the oven, and all that was left was to wait.

Suddenly, the front door swung open. “Hullo Jeeves!” Bertie said as he entered. “Sorry I’m home a bit early, no need to rush—say,” he looked around and at Jeeves as he removed his jacket, “what’s all this about? Are we expecting company?”

“No,” Jeeves said as he locked the door. “I thought that we may make tonight’s meal…special.”

“Any reason, old thing? I mean, you look dashed spiffing in that tux.” Bertie reached out to smooth down his lapels, which Jeeves were sure didn’t need any smoothing.

“I am to wait, though waiting so be hell.”

“One of the bard’s, eh? The iambic pentameter gives it away. As you wish.”

“Would you care to dress in black tie for dinner?”

“Of course, if it’s in the spirit of the thing. Lead the way!” Bertie exclaimed as they headed towards the bedroom.

The appropriate apparel was put on, the roast was carved, the meal was shared, the remnants were stored, and Jeeves mentally steeled himself.

“Why, Reg, I think you’ve outdone yourself. That was the most scrumptious fare I’ve had this side of Brinkley Court.”

“I am gratified to hear that, thank you.”

“I have enjoyed myself immensely. Of course, that’s not hard to do with you around.” A small blush was threatening to come across the Jeevesian face at that remark. “So, what’s the occasion?”

 _This is it_ , thought Jeeves. He silently prayed that his analysis of the psychology of the individual did not fail him in this most important case. “I have been thinking—"

“That’s something you’re known to do!” Bertie chimed in.

Jeeves started again. “I have been thinking about the picnic we had approximately two months ago.”

“I never knew a sheep could be that fearless! For creatures that are 98% fluff, I did not expect to get such a severe hoofing!”

“If you remember, you took a nap in the clearing, and when you awoke you said you dreamed of us ‘getting hitched’, as you say.”

“Well, Reg, I don’t think that’s going to be allowed in Old Blighty anytime soon, sad as it is.”

“Does it need to be?”

“What? I can’t say I follow you.”

“The legal ramifications are but one small part of the marriage pact. Other elements factor much more heavily in creating a successful marriage.”

“What do you mean?”

At this, Jeeves lowered himself onto one knee beside Bertie’s chair.

“Bertram. Ever since I entered your employ, I have harbored a deep regard for you. Though I may not always show it upon my visage, getting to bear witness to your joie de vivre, your kindness and generosity, and your sense of humor has made me happier than I ever have been in my life. Your smallest touches set me aflame. I feel the urge to care for you, to make every small thing perfect for you, so that I may never see the smile fall from your lips. I love you, simply and truly.”

“Oh, Reginald!” Bertie gasped, with one hand to his mouth.

“Though the law may not recognize it, I believe that all that is important is that we recognize it. Bertram Wilberforce Wooster,” Jeeves said as he grasped Bertie’s hand. “Will you allow me to become your husband?”

“Yes,” Bertie said in a wondrous tone, eyes huge and mouth agape. “Yes!” Jeeves found himself tackled to the floor in an all-encompassing embrace. “Yes, yes, yes! I will marry you!”

Lips were applied to lips, and a few manly tears may have made an appearance (though Jeeves would never confess to it).

When they separated, Jeeves reached into his pocket and removed a small drawstring bag. “I thought that…I could give you these.” He opened the bag and poured two small round silver cufflinks into his palm. “May I?” Bertie nodded, and Jeeves began to reverently replace his old square cufflinks with the new.

“They’re perfect. And no one will be the wiser to what they mean, eh? You really do think of everything. I’ll have to get you a matching pair!”

Jeeves smiled at this, and kissed Bertie again.

“Shame I won’t have them on for too much longer tonight, though,” said Bertie with a twinkle in his eye as he rose and headed towards the piano. “But first, I think this calls for a song!”

  


\---

  


The doorman to Berkley Mansions wondered what was going on. This was the second florist today to make a delivery to Mr. Wooster’s residence. Not to mention, there had been a parade of visitors heading to the third floor, with no departures. What scheme was Mr. Wooster up to this time?

“Thank you,” said Rosie M. Banks as she took the flowers from the delivery boy and closed the door to the flat. Vases of white hydrangeas were placed on every possible surface in the living room of 3A. The furniture was arranged so that the chesterfield and armchair were circled around the fireplace. The dining table was set, and some tantalizing aromas wafted in from the kitchen.

(“We can get a caterer, Reg. You shouldn’t have to work on the big day!”)

In his quarters, Reginald put the final touches on his outfit. To the casual observer, he would seem as put together as on any other day. However, the occasional flash of a deep plum color around the ankles would betray him to be as much of a sap as any other man in his position.

There was a gentle knock at the door. “Are you almost ready, Jeeves?” asked Bingo Little.

“Yes, I shall be out directly,” he replied. With one last look in the mirror, he headed out to the living room. Sitting in the armchair was Mrs. Travers (though “please, call me Dahlia!” was still ringing in his ears). Upon the settee was his niece, Mabel, and her husband Charles (better known as Biffy to his friends). Still flitting around the room putting everything just so was Rosie, and Mr. Little stood with his back to the fireplace. Jeeves took his place in front of him.

From the master bedroom, Bertie emerged. (Despite it being a usual duty, Bertie had refused to allow it today. “No, this is the one time I will have to dress myself. You can’t see me, it’s tradition!”) He was dressed in an immaculate black suit, with a plum pocket square and a white rose in his buttonhole.

 _He has never been more handsome,_ Jeeves thought as Bertie stepped in front of him and held his hands.

“It looks like we are ready to begin!” said Bingo. “Well, I’m no Stinker Pinker, so I can’t say I’ve got the words down pat, but I’ll try my best.” He cleared his throat, and with a wide arm gestured to the audience.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the love between these two men.”

“Wait, is this a wedding?” called out Biffy, who was quickly shushed by Mabel.

“Bertie has been one of my best chums since we were at school together, and Jeeves here has helped ladle us all out of the soup on numerous occasions.”

“Hear, hear!” Aunt Dahlia chimed in.

“Though when I first heard about their arrangement, it did come as a bit of a shock, I think we can all agree that there are not two others more deserving of a lifetime of happiness.”

“Bingo, if I may join in here,” said Bertie. “Reg, earlier today I confess a sliver of doubt entered my mind. ‘Really,’ I thought, ‘you’d saddle yourself to this Wooster for eternity? This mentally negligible fool? Reggie, am I worth all that? How could I ever hope that you would deign to marry me?’ But then, I saw the way you looked at me when I walked in here and knew that you must feel for me what I feel for you. And if that’s true, then I never want to be apart. I’m so happy that you will forever be my man, Jeeves.”

“Bertram…” said Jeeves. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it.

“Jeeves, at a loss for words! Thought I’d never see the day!” Bingo laughed. “Why don’t we just jump to the dessert course, gentlemen? Though King George and the Archbishop won’t recognize it, they can go boil their heads. This is what matters, this love and devotion we can all see between these two here. Let class nor creed separate them. Why, it’s just like in my Rosie’s novel, Only a Factory Girl—”

“Richard!” cried out Rosie.

“Ahem. Okay, here we go. Do you, Bertram Wooster, take Reginald Jeeves to be your husband?”

“I do,” said Bertie, fighting back a sniffle.

“And do you, Jeeves, take Bertie here to be your husband?”

“I do.” Bertie had never seen such passion in those normally staid blue eyes.

“Well then, by the power vested in me by, uh, you two, I now pronounce you married. You may now kiss the groom.”

Bertie planted a smacker of a kiss on Jeeves’ lips as the small crowd let out a cheer.

“Reginald,” said Bertie as he reached into his pocket. “I have something for you.” In his hand were two golden wedding bands. “I know it’s silly, and we can’t wear them in public, of course, but I thought, when we’re alone…”

Jeeves took the smaller band and placed it upon Bertie’s ring finger. “Of course, my darling.” Bertie then returned the favor and topped it off with a peck to the ring.

“Congratulations, Uncle Reggie!” cried out Mabel from the chesterfield.

“This is one wedding I’ll be sure to remember,” said Biffy.

“Okay everyone, let’s celebrate! I can hear the roast beef calling to me…” Bingo said as he headed towards the kitchen.

As everyone moved to the table, Dahlia stopped Jeeves. “You know, if you ever need someone to gripe to about the blot…please, I’d like for you to consider me as a mother-in-law, or aunt-in-law, if you will.”

“Thank you, Dahlia. I will keep you in mind. Thank you for joining us today.”

“Oh, he may be a blot, but he’s my blot. Well, our blot, now.”

The corner of Jeeves’ mouth turned up at this. “As you say, madam.”

  


\---

  


The train to Calais left that afternoon. By midnight, Bertie and Jeeves were ensconced in a small hotel room. Bertie lay with his head upon Jeeves’ wide bare chest. For the first time today, a moment of sadness fills his eyes.

“I agreed to ‘’til death do us part’, but what about before then? What if we are found out, Reg?”

“There is no fear without hope, and hope without fear.”

“Aristotle?”

“Spinoza. We are not the first to do this, Bertram. Many have done what we have before. I firmly believe that in the end we shall be alright.”

“Well, Reg, you are the pinnacle when it comes to getting me out of the soup. I guess we could always run away and go live like hermits, like Rocky on Long Island. Or we could open a little bookstore somewhere!”

“No matter where life takes us, I will always be with you, Bertram. Banjoleles and mustaches permitting, of course.”

Reginald got a small shove in the arm for that one.

“I love you, Reggie.”

“I as well, my love.”

“We’d better stop there; I think you’ve seen enough of my tears so far. Do you think you’re ready for round two?”

“Of course, my love.”

Few words were exchanged after that.

  


  


**Author's Note:**

> My first published fanfiction! Figured I should probably contribute to the fandom after, oh, a decade or so of being in it. Please visit Ngoziu's J&W art on Tumblr or Pillowfort!


End file.
